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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29011911">Taking Flight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArturisNebula/pseuds/ArturisNebula'>ArturisNebula</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Beaches, Boys Kissing, Cuddling, Cute, Dream POV, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Florida, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gay Panic, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Soft dnf hours, no beta we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:42:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,308</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29011911</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArturisNebula/pseuds/ArturisNebula</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>George comes to stay with Dream for a few months.</p><p>--</p><p>George’s eyes catch him quickly, Dream’s lime green hoodie standing out easily from the muted, earthen tones worn by the other airport-goers. George’s face breaks into a grin, and he starts awkwardly skip-running towards Dream, backpack banging against his spine. They fall into one another, Dream’s muscled arms pulling George in tight.</p><p>“Holy shit Dream, you’re really here,” George mumbles into his chest. “And tall, fuck.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>388</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A tall guy and a lost looking twenty-something walk into an airport</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dream’s nodding along to “Jesus in LA,” watching the airport shift around him.</p><p>He checks his watch again, 11:35pm. George’s flight should’ve landed ten minutes ago, and assuming George wasn’t completely hopeless at following signs, which, honestly, Dream wouldn’t put past him, he’d be out sometime in the next few minutes.</p><p>He adjusts his cloth mask, moving it to sit higher on the bridge of his nose and refocuses his gaze on the door for arrivals, listing the people that come through. Old woman, blonde guy, guy holding a frappuccino. Young couple, old couple. Lost looking twenty-something.</p><p>Dream blinks, registering after a second that the lost looking twenty-something is George. He feels the corners of his lips creep up and he pauses his music, opening twitter and pointing his phone at George. He takes a slightly blurry picture. <em> Breaking news: Georgenotfound has been found </em>. He types, posting the picture on his alt.</p><p>George’s eyes catch him quickly, Dream’s lime green hoodie standing out easily from the muted, earthen tones worn by the other airport-goers. George’s face breaks into a grin, and he starts awkwardly skip-running towards Dream, backpack banging against his spine. They fall into one another, Dream’s muscled arms pulling George in tight.</p><p>“Holy shit Dream, you’re really here,” George mumbles into his chest, “and tall, fuck.”</p><p>“Yeah, ” Dream exhales, warm breath tickling George’s scalp. He squeezes George tighter, feeling the brit’s chest rise fall quickly against his.</p><p>George gasps, laughing. “Dream! I- I can’t-” He inhales shallowly. “I can’t breathe.”</p><p>“Shit, sorry.” Dream immediately releases him, springing back. He looks guilty. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? I guess I got caught up in you finally being here and-”</p><p>“I’m fine, idiot.” George rolls his eyes, “You play Minecraft for a living, you’re not that strong.”</p><p>“Stronger than a dry spaghetti noodle like you.”</p><p>“Oh, shut up.”</p><p>“No, I don’t think I will.” Dream’s eyes flick to the side as the baggage carousel to the right of them comes to life, gears grinding loudly as the metal conveyor belt begins to fold and turn. “Which-”</p><p>George appraises the number hovering above the machinery and answers before Dream even has the chance to finish his question. “That’s the one my bag’ll come out on.”</p><p>“Awesome.” Dream watches as a few bags tumble haphazardly down the chute and slowly pass by the corner they’re nearest to. He leans back against the wall, letting his back settle against the cold concrete again. “How was your flight?”</p><p>“Long.” George shifts his weight, dragging his gaze back to Dream for the single word before returning to staring at the luggage floating past.</p><p>“Just long?”</p><p>“Yeah,” George yawns, the adrenaline rush from finally meeting Dream beginning to wear off and the nine hour flight beginning to catch up to him. Dream nods, turning his gaze back to George and using the moment of silence to fully take him in.</p><p>Dream decides immediately that George is definitely more handsome in real life, pure carbon and oxygen far more forgiving than HD. He traces the edge of George’s face slowly with his eyes in an almost dot-to-dot fashion, connecting each of the prominent features- tip of the forehead, ear, nose, cheekbone, lips, chin.</p><p>Upon giving up on the dots and moving closer in- Dream’s not really one for abstract art- he notices that, although beautiful, George is more ghost than human right now, pale skin made to seem translucent in juxtaposition with the dark petals blooming beneath his eyes.</p><p>Dream opens his mouth to ask George something, not really sure what, but closes it when George yawns again. They’ll have plenty of time to catch up later.</p><p>They stand together, listening to the quiet chatter and watching for George’s bag. Or, George is watching for his bag. Dream is watching the bags flit by in George’s eyes, rectangles and misshapen totes reflected in his glassy gaze.</p><p>“Finally,” George says, moving to intercept a fairly nondescript, dark blue suitcase.</p><p>Just as he’s about to grab it, Dream cuts in front of him, hoisting it off the belt for him.</p><p>George squeaks in indignation. “Hey! I could’ve gotten that, you know.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Dream replies, simply. He can tell that George is fading quickly and probably doesn’t have enough energy to fight him on this.</p><p>“Just know that… that I could’ve, okay?” George grumbles, predictably too tired to argue.</p><p>“I know, George.” Dream smiles at him warmly.</p><p>Dream leads George up a series of escalators to the level of the airport parking garage where he’d left his car an hour ago. He fumbles his keys out of his pocket and presses the ‘unlock’ button on the fob twice, two familiar beeps accompanying each click.</p><p>Dream opens the trunk and sticks George’s suitcase in while George walks towards the left side of the car, pulling open the frontmost door.</p><p>“George, other side, unless you want to drive,” Dream says, laughing, “you’re in America now, land of cars with steering wheels on the left.”</p><p>George mutters something that Dream doesn’t quite catch, probably an insult, before walking around the hood of the car and swinging the passenger’s side door open instead.</p><p>Dream closes the trunk, and ducks into the driver’s side, turning the key and slipping smoothly the car out of the parking space. George fiddles sleepily with the radio as Dream exits the garage, finally settling on a station in the middle of a Queen marathon.</p><p>--</p><p>“That’s why they call me Mr. Fahrenheit, I’m travelling at the speed of light” Dream sings quietly, following along with the song playing on the radio. He’s pushing eighty, one of maybe three cars from city to horizon. He tells himself that it’s because he wants to get home faster, get to bed, but really it’s because times like these make him feel so powerful, so only-one-in-the-world, and speed only enhances that feeling, it’s like a drug except safer. Maybe.</p><p>Dream glances over at George as he takes an exit, slowing to forty. George’s been out for the past hour, knees curled to his chest, head wedged between seatbelt and the headrest. He looks so peaceful, and Dream feels a warm happiness flicker in his chest. George is finally real, finally here and better than he could’ve ever imagined.</p><p>The lights he left on cut across Dream’s face as he pulls into his driveway, making him blink. He twists the keys from the ignition, and reaches across to lightly shake George. “Hey- hey, we’re here.”</p><p>George shakes his head and cracks his eyes open slightly. His language slurred with sleepiness almost to the point of incomprehension when he opens his mouth. “What? We’re where?”</p><p>“My house, you gotta get up and get into bed and then you can go back to sleep, okay?” Dream says, climbing out of the car. He heads to the trunk and pulls out George’s bag. “Come on George, get out, I don’t want to carry you in.”</p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, Dream watches George’s door open and a figure stumble out. “Fine, I’m up.”</p><p>“Good. Follow me.” He slams the trunk closed and walks to the door, sliding the key in and twisting it with practiced ease. He holds the door open for George, sidestepping him to close and lock the door once he’s fully inside. He leads George up the stairs, directing him into the guest bedroom, George’s room for the next few months.</p><p>“Thanks.” George mumbles out before slipping his shoes off and collapsing onto the bed. Dream rolls his eyes and tugs the blankets out from under George, gently laying them back over him.</p><p>“I’m down the hall if you need anything. Night, George.” Dream steps quietly out of the room, hooking his fingers around the doorknob and pulling the door closed behind him. He walks into his room, immediately changing into pajamas and sinking into his bed, out before he can even set an alarm.</p><p>--</p><p>Dream wakes up the next morning at ten. Not early, but by no means late compared to some of the times he’s gotten up in the past. Dream flips the covers off and steps out onto the hardwood floor, toes curling at the sudden cold. He leans backwards and sticks his arms out, groaning as his muscles stretch.</p><p>He steps out into the hallway, carpet scratching against his bare feet. He raises a hand to cover his mouth as he yawns, walking two doors down to his guest- George’s room.</p><p>He pushes open the door, wincing a little bit at the creak that sounds so much louder than usual in the morning quiet. Dream peeks his head into a room that’s still completely dark, save for thin strips of sunlight slipping through the cracks in the blinds. In the middle of the bed lies a striped and evenly breathing pile of blankets that Dream assumes is George, still fast asleep.</p><p>He smiles to himself and quietly closes the door before heading down to the kitchen. He unhooks a skillet from his rack of pans and tosses it, catching it handle-side before sliding it onto the stove. He grabs a few eggs and a package of bacon from the fridge, a bowl from the cabinet. He pauses, realizing that something’s missing, and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He opens spotify, and puts “Working Bitch” on, setting it to loop.</p><p>He nods his head along to the song, cracking the eggs one at a time into the bowl, then grabbing a whisk and mixing them until they’re a marbling of frothing yellow and white. He pours the eggs onto half the pan and sticks a couple of bacon strips on the other, enjoying the sizzle as the raw meat hits the pan.</p><p>He grabs a few slices of bread too, and sticks them into the toaster, pulling the lever down to start the bread toasting (on beat of course). He returns to the pan, stirring the eggs and flipping the bacon, really starting to get into the song. When it repeats for the fourth time, he’s mouthing along to the lyrics and dancing. Not crazily, but shuffling his feet on beat, moving his shoulders side to side.</p><p>Two more loops later, the toast pops up, and he twirls, grabbing two plates from a cabinet and setting them on the counter. He sticks one slice on each plate, shimmying his way back over to the eggs and bacon. He turns the stove off, and lets them cool, taking one chorus to really lip-sync his heart out into the rubber spatula he’s been using.</p><p>Dream finishes the chorus, shifting back into his more subtle dancing, and plates the eggs and bacon. He spins around to put the two plates on the counter and finds himself looking directly into a pair of dark brown eyes.</p><p>“George!” Dream exclaims, almost dropping the plates, “some warning is nice”</p><p>“You looked like you were having fun, I didn’t want to interrupt,” George says cheekily, “and you were… what’s the phrase? Oh, yeah. You were working, bitch.”</p><p>“Very funny.” Dream deadpans. He feels his cheeks redden a little bit. Not even a day in and he’s already embarrassing himself in front of George. “H- How long were you standing there?”</p><p>“A minute or so, not that long.” George says. Dream winces, face coloring a little more. “Oh my god, Dream, it’s just me, you don’t have to get all embarrassed. It was nice, watching you so, like, open and normal and stuff.”</p><p>“Oh, okay,” Dream stares at him, a little shocked that George is comforting him instead of taking the easy opportunity to tease him relentlessly. He holds up one of the plates. “Breakfast?”</p><p>“Obviously,” George brushes a few strands of his bed-messy hair from his forehead and takes the plate. “I didn’t know you could cook.”</p><p>“It’s just eggs and toast, not really <em> cooking </em> cooking.”</p><p>“Yeah, but still.” George says around a mouthful of eggs.</p><p>“Oh right,” Dream remembers. “You can’t cook, can you?”</p><p>“Hey, in this day and age there’s literally no reason to know how to. I can use the microwave and the toaster, which basically means I can cook anything ever.”</p><p>“I could teach you while you’re here if you want,” Dream offers. “It’s really not that hard.”</p><p>“Maybe, but wouldn’t that mean I’d have to start helping cook meals?”</p><p>“It would mean I wouldn’t make you do the dishes as much.” Dream counters.</p><p>“I’ll think about it,” George says, eating a strip of bacon and thinking for a second, “so, what else is there to do in Florida outside of slaving over the stove?”</p><p>Dream rolls his eyes at George’s dramatics. “Not a ton right now, Covid’s kind of screwed us over, sorry we couldn’t reschedule your visit.”</p><p>“Honestly, anywhere new is nice. All I’ve seen for the past year is the same house, over and over and over.”</p><p>“Speaking of which, I need to give you the tour!” Dream says, taking a sip of water. “After breakfast.”</p><p>“Sure, yeah. That sounds good.”</p><p>“To do though, right now I guess we have beaches we can drive out to, parks, the outdoors, small restaurants, me,” Dream says, wiggling his eyebrows at George.</p><p>“You’re so stupid.” George rolls his eyes, and tries to seem mad at Dream, but he’s smiling.</p><p>“You love it.”</p><p>“Maybe.”</p><p>--</p><p>Dream grabs George’s plate and stacks it on top of his before setting them both in the sink. “Ready?”</p><p>“Sure,” George says, hardwood floor squeaking in complaint as he scoots it back, swinging his legs forward, and standing up.</p><p>“Well, this is the kitchen.”</p><p>“I couldn’t have guessed.” George replies sarcastically.</p><p>“I wasn’t finished, idiot,” Dream rolls his eyes, and starts turning in a circle pointing at things, “there’s the pantry, the fridge. The coffee and coffeemaker are next to the toaster. If you’re hungry, you can ask me where stuff is, or just kind of rummage around, everything’s up for grabs. We can go shopping later in the week too if you have anything specific that you like to have around.”</p><p>George nods slowly, trying to commit everything that Dream just told him to memory. “Pantry, fridge, coffee, Got it.”</p><p>Dream chuckles at the overwhelmed look tensing George’s face. “You don’t have to memorize everything right away, there’s not going to be a pop quiz or anything.”</p><p>“I know,” George smiles sheepishly, “I just want to get everything down the first time so I don’t have to open five hundred cabinets every time I want to get something.”</p><p>“Georgenotfound, soon to be ‘Any% Glitchless finding food in Dream’s kitchen’ speedrun world record holder.”</p><p>“Uh huh,” George tries to seem unamused, but lets a small smirk slip through, quirking the ends of his lips up slightly.</p><p>This doesn’t go unnoticed by Dream, who feels a small blooming of happiness in the pit of his stomach at making George smile. “It’ll feel like home in no time.”</p><p>And the house slowly does start feeling, not exactly like home, but homier to George.</p><p>To Dream, the house starts feeling homier too, not in the way of growing familiarity that George is experiencing, but in the less alone, more lived in sort of way.</p><p>The melding of their lives starts in small ways, habits and inside jokes building over days and weeks: A mug George develops an affinity for always lurking either in the sink or the drying rack, sometimes left absent-mindedly on end tables. Extra pillows going missing and ending up unapologetically in George’s room. Despite teasing him relentlessly, Dream makes a habit of tossing any pillow he finds into George’s room after ‘stumbling’ upon them buried deep in closets or bins.</p><p>--</p><p>“Hey! I found another pillow for your empire.” Dream calls, pushing George’s door open and flinging a purple throw pillow at his head.</p><p>“Dream!” George yells in surprise, turning his head quickly to the side, just in time for the pillow to slap him directly in the face. “I’m streaming, nimrod.”</p><p>“Oh whoops, sorry,” Dream says, not sounding sorry at all. “Hey chat!”</p><p>George’s Twitch chat explodes at Dream’s greeting, messages flicking by so fast that George gives up on even trying to read any of them. “One second guys.” He says, before muting himself. “I think you broke them.”</p><p>Dream saunters over, careful to stay far to the left of George’s webcam. “I always do,” Dream sounds extra confident, shrugging on his slightly exaggerated on-camera persona in case George unmutes his audio. He eyes the computer screen, noting the familiar background of George’s cottage-core house on the SMP. “Who are you playing with?”</p><p>“Q and Karl. I wanted to upgrade my house, and Q was planning on streaming Jackbox with Karl later anyways, so I agreed to raid and get you to play Jackbox with us in exchange for them starting their night earlier and streaming with me.” George says, smiling hopefully at Dream, “You will play, right?”</p><p>“George…” Dream starts, carefully. “You know I’ve got stuff to do tonight, there were all of those messed up merch orders and-”</p><p>“Pretty please, it’ll only be a few rounds.” George widens his eyes and sticks out his bottom lip, tilting his head up at Dream.</p><p>“Well….fine, but if something else comes up I’m prioritizing it over staying.” Dream sighs, shaking his head almost imperceptibly to himself. George, master manipulator, strikes again. “How soon are you guys starting?”</p><p>“Fifteen?”</p><p>“Okay, I’ll be back.” Dream hears George greet Karl and Quackity again, explaining gleefully that he’s gotten Dream to join them for Jackbox as he steps out of the room.</p><p>He dips into his room to pocket his phone and earbuds before heading to the kitchen. He grabs a cup and fills it with water, making it halfway up the stairs before turning back around and filling another one for George.</p><p>He hovers in the doorway, loosely holding both glasses and watches George mess around until he ends stream, raiding Quackity. Dream moves into the room and drags over the extra chair he’d carried up from the dining room last week. “Hey. I brought you some water.”</p><p>George pulls his headphones down to hang around his neck. “Thank you. Genuinely,” he takes a sip of water, “for both this and Jackbox.”</p><p>Dream smiles at him, leaning back against the wooden slats of the back of the chair and shoving one of his earbuds in. “You know I always got you.” He runs a hand through his hair. It’s gotten longer than he likes it, shaggier, cascading over his ears and tickling his neck in the very back. He makes a mental note to book a haircut appointment soon.</p><p>He connects to discord and mutes when Quackity tells them all to join, using his earbuds as a way to listen to the conversation and George’s mic to cut in with jokes, or opinions.</p><p>At first, they’d both avoided being in the same room to stream. Streaming, to them, was meant to be an alone sort of thing, personal. And, although neither'd ever discussed it, both Dream and George were afraid that having someone else in the room might be awkward.</p><p>But, a few weeks ago, Dream had broken the ice, accidentally more than anything else.</p><p>He had been sitting at his desk for three hours, immersed in answering hundreds of emails, a playlist mostly consisting of 24kGoldn, and Patches, who’d nosed up on his lap seconds after he’d sat down, demanding attention every few minutes.</p><p>He’d gone upstairs to take a break and to see if George might want to watch a movie with him, or when he’d be ready for dinner. He’d opened the door to George sitting in complete darkness except for his monitor, face bathed in electronic light. He was bent over, laughing his ass off over something, and Dream couldn’t help but grin at the sight of George, glowing.</p><p>Dream had stepped in quietly, tiptoed over to George’s bed, the closest piece of furniture, and gingerly sat on the edge, sinking into the mattress easily. He was sitting at a diagonal from George, able to see most of his screen and the left side of his body, as well as most of his back. Dream being able to see without being seen himself.</p>

<p>After staring at George’s character darting around his screen for a few minutes, Dream’s gaze had begun to wander, dragging slowly across his left hand, fingers deftly clicking and scrolling, darting his mouse across his mousepad every few seconds.</p><p>His gaze had drifted higher up, running along the creased parts of his sweatshirt, the shadows curving more darkly between wrinkles, before moving to his face.</p><p>Dream’d already seen George, seen his face, seen him talking and moving, but it was different in the dark, watching without him knowing. Different with him doused in fake light, but for once being real. A blending of code and human except this time it was flipped from how it’d always been, George pulled through to Dream’s side of the screen.</p><p>Dream stood up and walked over to him, later, when George’d finally ended his stream. He’d quietly said hello, not wanting to scare George, and without thinking, leaned down and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, hugging him loosely. A hug, that, if ran through a hug translator, would roughly mean: “Hi! I enjoyed your stream and am about to go make dinner, I hope spaghetti’s ok, I know we had it yesterday, but I made too many meatballs and they’re going to go bad if we don’t use them tonight.”</p><p>Dream felt George relax into him immediately, bony shoulders pushing against his waist. Dream’d meant the hug to be short, just a brief arm-wrap-and-go, but as he started to pull away, he felt George’s soft hand raise up to brush against his arm, as if to say: <em> stay, please </em>. So he did, resting his chin on George’s head until George finally released him.</p><p>After that, it’d been easy. They’d figured out using two separate pairs of earbuds or headphones and the same mic, Dream’d dragged up two of his extra dining room chairs, stuck one in George’s room and one in his.</p><p>And, it’s nice. Having someone there to ground Dream in during streams exchange for him reeling them back in too. Especially because that someone is George.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello!!! Thank you for reading! I'm not really expecting anyone to find this cause I'm kind of a rando, but if you've somehow stumbled onto this and do read it, criticisms, random thoughts, or even just hellos are more than appreciated! I love talking to people :)</p><p>Chapters 2 and 3 are already complete and just need a bit of tweaking so they'll be out tomorrow and the next day if not sooner</p><p>Other than that, I hope you're having a great day or night or anything in between &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Challenge completed: [Hot Tourist Destinations]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes, I named this chapter after a Minecraft achievement.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I was thinking we could maybe go to the beach today?” Dream asks, punctuating his question with a large bite of banana.</p><p>George glances out the window at the beautiful, sunny day outside. “Sure,” he nods. “How soon would we leave?”</p><p>“Whenever, really. Do you have anything you have to get done before we go? We’ll probably be out most of the day.” Dream finishes his banana in another two bites and sticks the peel in his compost bin.</p><p>“No, I’m free.” George finishes his mug of coffee and sets it in the sink.</p><p>“Cool, I guess put your swimsuit on and be down in five?” Dream states more than asks.</p><p>“Okay,” George agrees, disappearing up the stairs and into his room. </p><p>Dream follows suit, pulling on his swim trunks. He slips on a pair of flip flops and grabs two towels from the bathroom before heading back downstairs. </p><p>He walks outside and unlocks his car, tossing the towels into the backseat, and ducks in. George emerges from the house a few minutes later, clad in a bright blue t-shirt and coral-colored swim trunks with palm trees on them.</p><p>Dream uses backstreets to get to the beach, wanting to avoid the morning rush on the freeway as well as show George more of the area surrounding his house. Despite George having been there for almost a month already, Dream’s hardly shown him anything outside of his house and the grocery store.</p><p>Dream tries to point out the places that he knows as they drive by, good restaurants, houses of people he’s met before, funny trees that he likes. </p><p>The minute they step out of the car, beach finally in full view, George’s jaw drops.</p><p>“Never seen a beach before?” Dream laughs, walking towards the edge of the parking lot.</p><p>George slams his door and steps quickly after Dream, slowing down to match Dream’s pace when they’re shoulder to shoulder again. “Obviously I’ve seen beaches, but…” George’s eyes rake across the shimmering white sand. “Nothing like this. I didn’t even know beaches like this actually existed. And this is like, a public beach? For anyone?”</p><p>“No, I lied, we’re sneaking onto private, government property,” He snorts, “Yes, it’s public. Haven’t I literally sent you pictures taken here before?” Dream slides his flip flops off as they step out onto the beach, hooking his fingers under the straps. His arches tingle against the hot sand, no longer protected by a layer of rubber.</p><p>“Well yeah, but I thought you’d made it look better through like, I don’t know, photo editing or something?”</p><p>“Nah,” Dream shakes his head. </p><p>George tells him about the beaches he’s used to in England as Dream leads him over to a section of beach far from the scattering of people swimming and sunbathing. He tosses one of the towels at George, and unfurls the other, laying back onto it. He raises his hand above his head to shield his eyes from the bright sun hovering overhead.</p><p>George carefully lays out his towel next to Dream’s, and sits on it, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his hands. “So, are we going to actually do anything, or…” George gestures  generally at the sand and water.</p><p>Dream blinks a few times. “Well, I mean I was just going to chill for a few minutes, but we can swim, or walk, or lay in the sun, or uh, honestly that’s about it.”</p><p>“Ok, cool,” George pulls himself to his feet, eyes pinned on the curling waves a short distance away, “I think I’m going to go check out the water then.”</p><p>“I’ll be here.” Dream responds, watching as George pulls his shirt and sandals off and walks down to the water. His chest is even paler than Dream expected and the sun practically reflects off George’s spine as Dream watches him traipse down to the water.</p><p>George is cautious at first, letting the water race up around just his ankles, but his face relaxes when he realizes it’s not as frigid as he thought at first, he wades in up to his waist, then his shoulders. </p><p>His head disappears below the surface for a second as he backs off a small dip in the ocean floor, but he sputters up, blinking the salt water after his eyes.</p><p>Dream’s eyes continue to follow George as his mind wanders. He’s not thinking about anything in particular, random things he needs to get done, chores, obligations. He pulls out his phone after a few minutes and takes a picture of George, floating on his back in the water.</p><p>He sends the picture to Sapnap, and almost immediately gets a response.</p><p>
  <em> Finally took your boyfriend to the beach? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He's not my boyfriend, weirdo</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But yeah</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Does he think it’s better than those weird-ass rock beaches they have in the UK? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I think so, his jaw was basically on the floor when we got out of the car </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> US 1, UK 0.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Man, wish I could be there with you guys rn</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I know</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Stupidass school</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oh shit, speaking of school I forgot about a paper that’s due, call later? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> sure </em>
</p><p>
  <em> bye! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bye </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dream sets his phone down and pulls off his shirt, standing up and walking down to where George is swimming. He runs in, throwing himself face-first into the water.</p><p>“Hey!” George exclaims as Dream surfaces. “You splashed me.”</p><p>Dream flips his wet hair out of his eyes, body floating up and down with the waves. He smiles slyly, “Yeah, and?”</p><p>“And? And what?” George sputters.</p><p>“And, are you going to do anything about it?” Dream asks, moving closer, close enough that he can feel the ghosting of George’s movements in the currents created by his legs and arms sculling to keep him afloat.</p><p>“Is that a challenge?” </p><p>“Just a question,” Dream says, innocently flicking some water at George’s head. George flicks some back, a testing of the waters both figuratively and literally. Dream cups his hand, sending a golf ball sized clump of water at George, prompting George to shove a wave of water at Dream. </p><p>Dream gasps, salt water rushing into his mouth.</p><p>A look of concern crosses George’s face. “Sorry, was that too hard? I didn’t mean-”</p><p>Before he can finish his apology, Dream tackles George, shoving him deep under the water. George kicks Dream’s shins and claws at his shoulders, trying to flip their positions. He goes limp for a second before lurching sideways, sputtering to the surface. He takes a few deep breaths before throwing all of his weight against Dream to try and push him further away. But, to George’s surprise, Dream doesn’t budge, making George realize that he’d only been able to escape Dream’s grasp to get air because Dream’d let him.</p><p>Dream smiles at him condescendingly. “Not bad.”</p><p>George dives under and latches onto Dream’s legs, fingers clamping around his ankles. Dream jerks underwater, the move catching him off guard. He tries to kick out of George’s grip, but George refuses to let go, slowly swimming up to the surface, forcing Dream to rotate further and further towards being fully upside-down. After a few futile seconds of kicking, Dream folds in half, going for George’s waist, and jabs a hand in on either side, hitting George right in the sensitive spot above his hips.</p><p>George’s hands immediately spring open, and Dream tumbles head over heels, surfacing with a gasp. He splashes at George, who immediately returns a shove of water. </p><p>Eventually, Dream wrestles George into a headlock, George’s legs kicking weakly against his calves. “Do you give up?”</p><p>“Never,” George returns, trying to twist his head out from Dream’s grip. Dream squeezes tighter. Tight enough to stop George from being able to breathe quite as easily, but not tight enough to actually hurt. “Okay, maybe.”</p><p>“Only maybe?” Dream challenges, staring George down.</p><p>“Okay, yes, fine.”</p><p>“Say the full thing.”</p><p>“Yes, I give up.” </p><p>Dream releases him, and they stand face to face, inches apart, panting and smiling. “Good fight. You did pretty good... for a toothpick.”</p><p>“Hey!” George says, raising his hands to push at Dream’s shoulders again.</p><p>Dream catches his wrists, and twists them until they’re pinned to George’s back, drawing their bodies closer together, to the point of almost touching. </p><p>Dream’s warm breath moves the water off of George’s face, sending small droplets off to the edges of his cheeks and dripping back into the water. Dream feels George’s pulse speeding up against his fingers, and can tell that if there wasn’t the smallest sliver of water between their chests that he’d feel the brit’s heart pounding.</p><p>His eyes drift down to George’s lips unconsciously for a moment before he wrenches them back up to George’s eyes, staring him down. “You sure you want to do that?” </p><p>He can feel a shiver travel up George’s spine at his growled question, can see a pinkish tinge flooding across George’s cheeks and up his ears. “Uh, n-no.” George breathes, “or, yes? Or, I-I mean that I don’t want to do that.”</p><p>Dream loosens his hands, feeling his heart drop in almost- disappointment? He kicks a few feet away, eyes still trained on George’s. He slows his breathing. “Good.”</p><p>George is still focused on Dream’s face, gaze skittering across the features that’d been pressed so close only moments before. “Yeah.”</p><p>“Want to go lie in the sun for a little bit? Warm up?” Dream asks, moving closer to the shore.</p><p>“That sounds nice, actually. I’m freezing.”</p><p>They end up sprawled out on their stomachs, Dream face-down on his towel, George resting his chin on his arms. Dream can feel his skin drying, the salt making his back itch. He has one of his earbuds in, listening to Quadeca’s latest album. He hums along softly, tapping his toes against the sand.</p><p>They lay like that for almost an hour, drowsy and content in the afternoon sunlight. Dream brings his head up onto his arms, turning it towards George when it hits one. “Hey.” </p><p>“Hi,” George smiles, opening his eyes and looking at Dream. He looks half-asleep, eyelids droopy and face relaxed.</p><p>“Sorry, did I wake you up?”</p><p>“Nah,” George yawns, “I was just resting my eyes.”</p><p>“That’s good,” Dream says, raising an arm to loop lines in the sand near his head. “You hungry? I know a good lunch place near here.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m starving.” George says, rolling onto his back and stretching out his arms. “Right now?”</p><p>“Sure,” Dream lifts himself to his feet, picking up his towel and shaking it off.</p><p>They walk back across the beach, throwing up a trail of sand and footprints in their wake.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>“Holy shit, George,” Dream exclaims when they’re back in the car.</p><p>“What? Did I do something?” George asks, looking around.</p><p>“You’re so red, oh my god. I forgot to bring sunscreen for you.” Dream wheezes, staring at George’s skin, the angry red far more visible now that they’re out of the sun.</p><p>“Fuck,” George curses, looking down at his arms and chest. “That’s going to hurt a lot tomorrow, isn’t it.”</p><p>“Oh my god I’m so sorry George.” Dream’s only wheezing harder now, the hilarity of the situation fueled by George’s overdramatic expression of dismay.</p><p>“Do you- do you know how to fix it?” George pokes at his skin, a small dot of white appearing for a second before fading back to dusky red.</p><p>“I grew up in the ‘Sunshine State,’ of course I do. It was drilled into me as a kid to keep at least two bottles of aloe vera on hand at all times.” Dream turns the keys and pulls deftly out of the parking lot.</p><p>“Do you keep them in the glove compartment or something?” George asks, craning his neck around the car.</p><p>“No, I have it at home though. The burn won’t really hurt til later anyways, so we can deal with it once we’re back.” Dream flicks his turn signal as he nears a stop sign, slowing slightly before jerking the wheel to the right. George falls sideways into Dream’s shoulder. He quickly pushes away, recentering himself gingerly in the seat. Dream feels his cheeks warm slightly at the unexpected touch. “Sorry, I didn’t realize that was going to be such a sharp turn.”</p><p>“All good,” George nods, looking out the window over arms at the coastline, marveling at the ocean. “It’s honestly way prettier here that I thought it’d be. Everyone always talks about America like it’s trash.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Dream says thoughtfully, glancing to his left, “I think sometimes people get the land and the people mixed up. Or not even people, exactly, but when they talk about how awful it is here, it’s about the politics and drama that’s interesting enough to spread internationally. Stories about pretty trees and pictures of, like, beaches and stuff don’t really make the cut for ‘interesting enough.’”</p><p>George looks at him in mild surprise.</p><p>“What?” Dream asks, “I’m not allowed to have opinions?”</p><p>“No, I just thought you weren’t a big outdoors guy. You always tell stories about, like, spending all your time as a kid coding and stuff.”</p><p>“Just cause it’s not my main interest doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate nice beaches and stuff. Before I went fully computer-nerd mode, I wanted to be a park ranger or something that involved a lot of outdoors-y stuff.” Dream defends, honking at a car that cuts unexpectedly into the lane in front of him. </p><p>“Dream the park ranger,” George snorts. “Couldn’t picture that if I tried.”</p><p>“Hey, I was a little kid, okay? Everyone has weird phases when they’re younger. I bet you did.”</p><p>“I was too boring for a weird phase,” George says. Dream raises an eyebrow. “I mean, I guess I was really into birds for a year or two? But it wasn’t really a phase, just a passing interest.”</p><p>“A passing interest that lasted <em>a year or two</em>.”</p><p>“Well,” George starts, reddening. “It was more that I, er, I thought that if I tried hard enough I could fly, and when I figured out that wasn’t happening, I got really into wanting to build like, a working set of wings- and birds can fly, so.”</p><p>“Icarus much?” </p><p>“I wasn’t stupid enough to use wax, idiot. Did fall off our shed once though.”</p><p>“You fell off your shed?!” Dream turns to look at George, taking his eyes off the road in surprise. “Should’ve led with that. This is why I’m always the one who always tells the stories on stream. You never bring up the good parts.”</p><p>“It wasn’t a big deal or anything, I just got a couple of scratches. My mum was convinced I broke my arm, but it wasn’t even sprained.”</p><p>Dream shakes his head in amusement. “Just when you think you know everything about someone, you find out that they jumped off sheds when they were younger.”</p><p>“One shed.”</p><p>“Whatever,” Dream says, skillfully parallel parking. He opens his door. “Don’t forget your mask.”</p><p>“Where are we going?” George asks, hooking his mask over his ears and stepping out. He eyes the rows of colorful shops.</p><p>Dream points vaguely down the sidewalk. “That way.”</p><p>They walk for about a block, Dream finally stopping in front of a small pizza place, and smiling. “Here it is.” He opens the door, holding it for George.</p><p>“What a fine young gentleman you are.” George jokes, stepping through the door. The restaurant smells strongly of tomatoes, and consists of maybe ten small tables and a few booths. Only four other people are in the restaurant, eating a pizza together at a table in the far corner. </p><p>A kind looking woman walks over to them. “Hello there! Oh my gosh, Clay? Is that you? It’s been too long!”</p><p>Dream nods, smiling at her. “Hi Ann, it’s great to see you! How are your kids doing?”</p><p>“Aw, you’re too sweet. They’re doing great, but they miss you. You should stop by sometime soon.” </p><p>“I’ll call you to figure something out when quarantine’s over,” Dream seems to remember that George is standing next to him. “This is George by the way, he’s staying with me for a few months.”</p><p>“Hello,” George says softly, “it’s nice to meet you.”</p><p>She looks him up and down. “Well aren’t you just the cutest thing!”</p><p>George colors slightly. “Uh, thank you.”</p><p>Ann grins at him, grabbing two menus before turning back to Dream. “I like this one, Clay. He’s sweet.”</p><p>“He really is,” Dream says, trying not to laugh as George’s face goes even darker.</p><p>Ann motions for the two boys to follow her, leading them to a table up against the wall. She hands them menus. “I’ll be back in five to take your orders.”</p><p>“Who was that?” George asks, skimming over the meal options.</p><p>“Ann. She’s one of my neighbors. I babysat her kids when I was younger. Really nice woman.”</p><p>“Cool,” George says, only half-listening. “What are you going to get?”</p><p>“Pizza, probably.” </p><p>George kicks Dream under the table. “Well, obviously. Should we just split one or something?”</p><p>“Depends, what toppings do you like?” </p><p>“Well, cheese-”</p><p>“Cop-out answer,” Dream cuts in.</p><p>“I wasn’t done yet!” George rolls his eyes. “Idiot.”</p><p>“You sure like that word.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, it’s the word that best describes you.” George shoots back. He deliberates for a moment, trying to remember what question he’s supposed to be answering. “Anyways, uh, I guess pepperoni? Olives and mushrooms are okay too.”</p><p>“I’m fine with just pepperoni then, if that sounds good.” </p><p>“Yeah, sure.” George says, putting down his menu. </p><p>Ann returns a few moments later, as promised, small notepad in hand. “What’ll be for you two?”</p><p>“We’ll have a regular pepperoni and two waters?” Dream says, stacking the menus up and handing them to her.</p><p>She takes them and sticks them under her arm. “Sure thing hon, that all?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Dream nods, “Thank you!”</p><p>“No problem. It’ll be out pretty quick, we aren’t real busy today.” She turns and disappears back into the kitchen.</p><p>Dream and George sit and talk about the MCC scheduled for later that week as they wait for their food to come, Dream penciling out their predicted rankings on two separate napkins and comparing them. “I still can’t understand how you see Green being top two.”</p><p>“Phil, Wilbur, Fundy, and Techno? Definitely going to sweep.”</p><p>“I mean yeah, they’re good, but compared to our team and Pete’s team? They don't stand a chance.”</p><p>“Want to make a bet then?” George challenges, a sparkle in his eyes.</p><p>Dream leans back, putting his hands behind his head “On what, them being top two?”</p><p>“Yeah,” George affirms.</p><p>“What does the winner get? Five bucks or something? Gifted subs?”</p><p>George thinks for a second. “How about winner gets to pick what we watch for two weeks for movies and shows.”</p><p>“Deal,” Dream sticks out his hand, and George shakes it. “Get ready to watch so many football games.”</p><p>“No chance. I’m not below throwing, I already got my coin.”</p><p>“You’re so stupid.” Dream rolls his eyes. </p><p>“I might be stupid, but at least I’m not an idiot like you,” George smiles.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Boom. Chapter 2! I told y'all it'd be out fast. I hope you've been enjoying reading it! Per usual, criticisms, feedback, random thoughts, and hellos welcome :)</p><p>Chapters should be going up daily from here on out.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Shot in the dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dream and George are sitting in the living room, watching Hbomb’s perspective of Ace Race from the last MCC on Dream’s laptop. George usually doesn’t do prep between events, showing up and playing more for fun than anything else. So, the past few days he’s looked on in amusement as Dream's tried to coerce him to put in a few hours of Parkour or Dodgebolt practice with him. </p><p>Dream’s feet are kicked out on the automan, and he’s watching H’s performance closely, noting where he lands and what skips he uses. “Damn, that was smooth, did you see that?” Dream says, rewinding the video to watch H’s trident movement through the waterfall section.</p><p>“Pretty nice,” George responds, words muffled behind his mouthful of bagel. “Think it’d be easier to go all the way up on the first waterfall so you wouldn’t have to be in the second one for as long?” He wonders absentmindedly.</p><p>“You might be onto something.” Dream rewinds to the start of H’s first lap, leaning back to watch. </p><p>From the corner of his eye, Dream sees George pull out his phone. “Hey, wait, what time is MCC in EST again?”</p><p>“Uh, three.” Dream pauses the vod again, switches tabs, and quickly types out a sentence in his “MCC Notes” document.</p><p>“You do know it’s 2:41, right?” George says, waving his phone clock in front of Dream’s face.</p><p>“It is?!” Dream exclaims, slamming closed his laptop, “Shit. I gotta go get everything set up.”</p><p>“See you in the discord call,” George holds out his hand for a high-five, which Dream instinctively returns. “We’re going to kill it.”</p><p>“I hope so,” Dream sounds nervous.</p><p>George turns to Dream and grabs him, putting his hands on Dream’s upper arms and looking him in the eyes. He punctuates each of his words with a shake of Dream’s torso, pulling him forward and backward. “You’re. Incredible. And. We’re. Going. To. Kick. Ass.”</p><p>Dream smiles at him, taking a deep breath. “Thanks George.”</p><p>“No problem. Can’t have nerves messing up the Dream.”</p><p>Dream stands up and starts walking towards the room with his setup. “Very funny,” He calls over his shoulder.</p><p>“Yeah, I know.” George says smugly, Dream barely catching the words as he pulls his door closed. His ears ring at the sudden, deafening silence as he boots up his computer and signs in. He gets all of the stuff set up for his stream barely in time, hitting the “Go live” button at 2:59. </p><p>He says hello to his viewers, checking that he’s unmuted before hopping into his team’s discord call.  “Hey guys!” He greets them. Two voices echo his greeting, Karl’s, and Punz’s.</p><p>“You guys ready?” He asks, parkouring aimlessly around the MCC lobby.</p><p>“Hell yeah,” Punz replies, revving up his trash-talking muscles. “We’re gonna wipe the floor with these scrubs.”</p><p>“No way we don’t win.” Karl affirms. “Well, no way we don’t win if George shows up.”</p><p>“He’ll be here, I made sure he got up this morning and everything,” Dream jokes, just as the ping of someone joining their vc rings through his headphones.</p><p>“Hello!” George says, cheerily. “Sorry if I’m a little late, my stream was being annoying.”</p><p>“All good!” Karl says.</p><p>“Hey, Dream, which teams are we keeping an eye on? Definitely Red and Pink, right?” Punz asks.</p><p>Dream takes a second to glance at who’s online and what team they’re on. “Red, Pink and Cyan for sure. Green could be good if they go full serious mode, but I doubt that’s going to happen.”</p><p>“Nice, okay.” Punz says, “and we’re going for movement-based games, right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Dream responds, “Ace Race, Parkour Tag, Hole in the Wall. Sky Battle maybe. Definitely Sands of Time. Spleef would be okay. We don’t want Bingo or Build Mart for sure. Hunger Games and Battle Box we want either early or not at all.”</p><p>“Woo! Strategy!” Karls says, cheerily.</p><p>“Yeah!” George exclaims back, matching his energy. “Gotta get you that 66% win rate.”</p><p>“Hell yeah we do! I need my credibility back.”</p><p>Dream half-listens as Karl and George continue joking around, roping Punz into a bit after a few minutes. He takes shallow sips from his waterbottle and steadys his shaking hands. There’s no real reason for him to be nervous, MCC is no-strings-attached, more about the content than actually winning. But, Dream still finds himself getting anxious before each event, afraid of somehow messing up or doing horribly.</p><p>His brand is built around being the best, and if he’s not, then he’s nothing. Just another guy who had his fifteen minutes of fame.</p><p>The countdown timer begins, and then, MCC’s begins. They start by playing Hunger Games, season 14 beginning with the game that should’ve ended 13. Punz is taking out players left and right with a punch bow, Dream and George are destroying with iron and stone swords, respectively, and Karl’s giving them intel on the locations of the other teams, having gotten killed in the first few minutes. They come in third, Punz pulling off an insane hail mary at the end, wiping out an entire team before getting cleaned.</p><p>Hole in the Wall is chosen next, then Battle Box followed by Bingo. After the break, Sky Battle wins audience choice. TGTTOSAWAF wins a tied vote, then Parkour Tag wins via 2 Mega Chickens. And finally, as per usual in MCCs, it comes down to Sands of Times.</p><p>Dream’s team is in fourth, a poorer performance in Battle Box and Sky Battle having dragged their score down from what Dream’d hoped. Luckily, the top two spots aren’t too far ahead, only 250 points separating first and fifth, probably one of the closest MCCs going into the last game.</p><p>“Ok guys, we can definitely do this. We gotta play risky, but not crazy risky. Only take chances you’re at least, like, 80% sure will pan out.” Dream says, rolling his shoulders and leaning closer to his monitor. “Also, remember: one carpet for where you’re going and three when you’ve cleared it. Call out keys and Karl, be vocal about the sand. Don’t be afraid to get loud and shout over us. Same thing to everyone if you have a puzzle or trap you’ve never seen before. Ask if you can’t figure out how to do it.”</p><p>“Which way’s everyone going?” Punz asks.</p><p>“I’ll go down the top left one.” George says, moving his character to the left side of the starting area.</p><p>“I’ll go right.” Dream says, character hopping in place.</p><p>“Cool. I’ll go across then.”</p><p>“I stay in the middle, right?” Karl double-checks.</p><p>“Yeah. Flick all the levers and get all the coins and sand around the upper part, and head down to the section below middle if the timer’s completely full.” Dream instructs, watching the time.</p><p>Numbers flash across Dream’s screen, counting down from ten.</p><p>“Let’s kick some ass, boys.” Punz says, all of them springing forward as the timer hits zero.</p><p>“Heck yeah!” Karl yells enthusiastically. Dream winces, turning his volume down slightly.</p><p>He starts down his tunnel, feeling his mind narrow until he’s fully focused on getting coins. He’s performing better than he’s ever done, and he can feel it, fingers dancing across his keys so smoothly that he can hardly tell where he ends and the computer begins. He can do this. This game is all that stands between him and a chance at momentary glory.</p><p>Dream finishes his tunnel, finding a red vault key at the other side of a lava parkour that he flies through, and starts racing back to middle to hand off the key to George, who’d called out that he’d found the red vault a minute prior. He hands off sixteen sand to Karl too, who sounds immensely relieved.</p><p>Dream starts down a second tunnel, getting a solid part of the way in before Karl yells at everyone to get back, only a minute remaining, and everyone out of sand. Dream makes it back first, Punz and George still deep into their tunnels, and sticks his three sand in, giving Punz and George more time. He hops around the middle anxiously, flicking levers to make sure Karl’s gotten them all.</p><p>George emerges first, and goes directly through the portal, having the most coins by a large margin due to the vault he opened. </p><p>“Karl, Dream, get through the portal!” Punz commands. “Waiting around for me just means you might not make it through in time either.”</p><p>“Uh, Dream?” Karl asks, uncertainty tinging his voice.</p><p>“No. He’s going to make it back in time and we’re going to go in together.” Dream says, stubbornly hoping that it’ll somehow encourage Punz to make it back more quickly.</p><p>“Fuck, Dream. At least go stand by the portal.” Punz says, Dream’s decision lacing an extra layer of stress into his voice. If Punz doesn’t make it back, he knows this moment will haunt him until the next MCC.</p><p>“We already are, don’t worry. If it gets to five seconds we’ll go in.” Dream says, trying to calm Punz’s nerves slightly.</p><p>As the second to last piece of sand drops, Karl quietly encourages, “Come on buddy, you got this.”</p><p>“Almost. There.” Punz says, teeth clenched. His character emerges from the tunnel, and he races towards the portal. “In. Now!” He growls, entering the portal with Dream and Karl right as the last piece of sand disappears. “Holy shit, Dream. Never do that again.” Punz leans back in his chair and takes a deep breath. Dream makes a mental note to go back and watch his perspective later to see just how close they cut it.</p><p>“We got out though, didn’t we?” Dream smiles, relief loosening his muscles.</p><p>“Yeah,” Punz agrees gruffly, “I guess we did.”</p><p>“Hey,” George cuts in, “half of Pink didn’t make it out!”</p><p>“Really?” Dream asks, moving towards the ‘prison’ cell. Sure enough, two members from Pink are pacing back and forth, being assaulted by tomatoes. “That’s great! Now we just gotta hope that Red and Green got less than us by two hundred, and Pink, theoretically, if Pete and H somehow still swept, which I wouldn’t put past them, honestly.”</p><p>The final team makes it through, and the game ends, results appearing in the chat. The scores show, and they’re in first for SOT. Dream holds his breath.</p><p>“Yes!” He and Punz shout at the same time as the final placements appear and they’re in second. </p><p>“Dodgebolt time, baby!” Karl says, a smile evident in his voice. Dream can tell that if he was watching Karl’s stream right now, he’d see him with his chair pushed back and dancing with joy, headphone cord cocking his head at a weird angle.</p><p>“You guys remember priority?” Dream drills.</p><p>“You, then George and Punz, then me.” Karl responds automatically.</p><p>“Great. Hopefully our practicing paid off,” Dream says, taking a few deep breaths as they’re teleported into the arena. He tries to remember the strategies they came up with when he’d dragged them onto the practice map a few nights ago at 2 am, but it’s all fuzzy, other than the core rules: take your time while shooting, communicate, and be irregular. </p><p>“Okay, boys. Let’s go.” Punz says, confidently. “Anyone going for the middle arrow?”</p><p>“I can,” George says.</p><p>And then, the round starts. Red team: FWhip, Shelby, Scott, and Tapl versus them. FWhip makes quick work of Punz and Karl. George gets Scott, but Dream misses his shot at Tapl, making it a 3v2 that ends three volleys of shots later, with Tapl getting George. </p><p>Dream shakes his hands out and shrugs his shoulders up and down a few times. “Be irregular!” He calls as the round starts, jumping as randomly as he can.</p><p>“You’re overlapping me, Karl, stay left.” Punz warns. </p><p>Karl moves just as Tapl shoots, the arrow flying right next to him. “Do we have both now?”</p><p>“Yeah.” George responds, voice quiet as he carefully begins to follow FWhip’s movements.</p><p>“Actually, can I take the shot? I’m feeling hot.” Punz asks, as Dream moves to take the arrow from him.</p><p>“Sure.” Dream says.</p><p>Punz immediately lines up his arrow and takes out Tapl seconds before George’s shot hits FWhip. Scott and Shelby manage to take out Punz, but George and Dream take them out the next round with two well-timed arrows.</p><p>The next two matches go quickly, Red winning the next, but getting slightly overconfident and letting Dream’s team win another. </p><p>Dream’s hands are shaking as he tries to quickly line up a first shot at Tapl, who’s trying to shoot at George. As he lets it fly, Tapl notices that Dream’s still and fires off an arrow at him just as the arrow takes Tapl out. The arrow hits before Dream can even react, teleporting him up into the stands. He watches his team intently, call completely silent as his teammates concentrate. </p><p>FWhip shoots, taking out Punz, and then it’s just George and Karl against Scott, Shelby, and FWhip. </p><p>“Give me one of the arrows,” George directs, turning to Karl. “I’ll go after FWhip, you go after Shelby.”</p><p>“Roger that.” Karl responds seriously, dropping an arrow. </p><p>They both follow their targets for at least ten seconds, ‘downloading their moves.’ George releases his arrow first, missing FWhip by only a hair, followed quickly by Karl hitting Scott instead of Shelby. </p><p>Shelby and FWhip both aim at Karl, hitting him easily, which leaves George in a 2v1. He picks up the arrows. </p><p>Dream can hear George’s breath shaking through the call. “You got this,” he whispers encouragingly.</p><p>George slowly lines up his first shot, taking out FWhip. In a panic as Shelby picks up the arrow, he fires off a quick one at her, missing.</p><p>Dream swears under his breath, leaning back in his chair. They’d been so close. So, so close. He watches as Shelby lines up her first shot and misses, a burst of hope popping in his heart. He leans forwards as she draws back her second arrow, not even noticing at first that George goes to pick up the arrow Shelby’d just missed with. He finally glances back at George when he hears Karl sharply inhale, wondering what’d surprised him. He stares in shock as George stops moving for a split second and fires at Shelby, not even taking time to properly aim. Shelby looses her arrow the second George stops moving, but it’s too late. The arrow hits her directly in the chest, eliminating the whole of the Red team and winning them the event.</p><p>Dream doesn’t even stick around to hear Punz and Karl screaming, throwing off his headset and running out of the room. He dashes up the stairs and throws open George’s door, jumping across the room and tackling him.</p><p>“Facecam Dream! Facecam!” George screams at him, prompting Dream to turn his head away from George’s computer at the last possible second as he knocks George out of his chair, only a blur of hair and sweatshirt showing up on the stream. George lands on his back on the floor, laughing his head off as Dream hugs him tight.</p><p>“Holy shit George! That was incredible. I’m so happy I could kiss you right now.” He smiles into George’s shoulder, heart beating faster than usual. Because of the excitement of the tournament. Obviously.</p><p>“Kiss me, huh?” George grins, neck hot against the edge of Dream’s forehead.</p><p>“You know what I meant.” Dream rolls his eyes and starts to climb off George, tumbling across his floor ninja-style until he’s out of the area covered by George’s webcam. “Still. Just. That was so good.”</p><p>“I know, I’m so amazing.” George says, smugly. </p><p>Dream rolls his eyes and steps quickly down the stairs and back into his chair, slipping his headphones back on. “Sorry, I’m back.”</p><p>“We’ve been waiting for <em> so long</em>,” Punz sighs overdramatically. “Was going to tackle George really necessary?”</p><p>Dream feels his cheeks warm slightly. “Yeah. Yeah it was.” He clears his throat. “I mean come on, he  absolutely saved our asses in that last round”</p><p>“To keep it a buck, I would’ve hugged him after that too if I was there.” Karl admits, moving his character to the edge of the stage. “Screenie? To celebrate?”</p><p>“Sure,” Dream lines his character up next to Karl’s, followed quickly by George and Punz. They pose, watching the swath of other players below them jump up and down, messages of congratulations flying through the game chat.</p><p>They sit for a while, people filtering in and out of their vc to comment on the Dodgebolt game, offer general compliments and start friendly banter. After another half hour, everyone stops streaming, letting Dream, George, and a scattering of other streamers to gossip and chat about more personal things for awhile.</p><p>Dream finally takes his headphones off at eight and shuts down his computer. He takes a second to just lean back and stare at the ceiling. He feels lighter than he has in a long time, the grin plastered across his face stubbornly refusing to leave, and only widening when he remembers something.</p><p>“Oh, George!” He calls, stepping out of his room.</p><p>“What’s up?” George says, as Dream walks into the living room. He’s sprawled out across the couch on his back with his hands folded behind his head.</p><p>“Remind me again who the first and second place teams were?”</p><p>“Uh, Red and Purple.” George tilts his head, “why?”</p><p>Dream just smiles at him.</p><p>George brings his eyebrows together, realization shaping his lips into an ‘o’ after a few seconds. “Shit, really? Come on, I made the winning shot and everything.”</p><p>“Scoot over Georgie, I want to watch some football.” Dream dives onto the couch, half-landing on George’s legs.</p><p>“But-”</p><p>“Hey, a bet’s a bet.” Dream grabs the remote and flips to FOX. “And I really think you’d like football if you gave it a chance. It’s super interesting, all of the decisions that go into plays and the getting into the other team’s head and-”</p><p>George shifts his ankles out from under Dream’s legs, crossing them and resting them on top of Dream's thighs instead. “As a man of my word I’ll sit through it, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to enjoy it.” He sighs, sticking a pillow under his head and turning towards the TV.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>Dream’s standing in the kitchen, staring at the kernels he’s poured into oil and waiting for them to start popping. He noticed a few days ago that George really enjoyed a bag of microwave popcorn that he’d made on a whim, and decided to make him some real popcorn tonight.</p><p>It’s been a week since they started watching a game a night, and football seems to finally be growing on George. Not much, but he’ll actually watch now instead of going onto Twitter the entire time, sometimes even asking a question or two.</p><p>The kernels finally start to explode, plinking against the glass lid. Dream grabs the pot, shaking it back and forth to make sure the kernels continue to reach the bottom of the pan and the popcorn rises, doing the double duty of popping the unpopped popcorn and not burning the already-popped kernels.</p><p>When the majority of it is popped, he pours the popcorn out into a bowl, adding salt and drizzling a liquefied chunk of butter over it. He used his hands to mix it more, ending up with a very nice bowl of popcorn.</p><p>“Hey,” George calls out, staring out his phone as he meanders down the staircase.</p><p>“Hi,” Dream responds, grabbing the bowl and starting towards the couch. “Ready for some football?” He punctuates the word ‘football’ with jazz hands, one hand wildly flapping to make up for the other, that’s only able to slightly shake the bowl back and forth.</p><p>George tries his best not to smile at Dream’s terrible jazz hands, but fails, letting the edges of his lips lift. He follows Dream, stepping over the back of the couch to slide down a few feet from him.</p><p>“You know you can just walk around, right?” </p><p>“Yeah,” George says, grabbing a blanket and throwing it over his crossed legs. “But that’s not as fun.”</p><p>“Fair point. I made popcorn.” Dream offers him the bowl, and George scoots a little closer, grabbing a handful. </p><p>He appraises it. “It looks different than the stuff we had last time.”</p><p>“Yeah. This is homemade.” Dream beams. “My mom’s recipe.”</p><p>George sticks some in his mouth, face slackening as he tastes it. “This is actually, like, incredible.” He grabs another few pieces, shoving them in his mouth.</p><p>“Hey, save some for the game,” Dream scolds, grabbing the remote and scrolling through a few he’d set to record. He clicks on one, skipping the opening commentary.</p><p>George moves even closer, trying to sneakily snake his hand into the bowl to grab more popcorn. Dream rolls his eyes and hands George the bowl. “Fine, just take it, you’ll eat all of it either way.”</p><p>George smiles at him, and Dream watches in amusement as George nestles the warm bowl between his legs and starts staring at the game, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth every few seconds. </p><p>He finds his eyes wandering, exploring George’s relaxed form instead of watching the game, tracing his cheekbones, lips, collarbones, looping around a mole on his left shoulder barely peeking out from beneath the collar of his t-shirt, diving into an indent in the side of his neck. His fingers itch to reach out and trace alongside his eyes, resigned to tapping on his knees, rubbing at the edge of his sweatshirt.</p><p>George turns to face him, lips moving. He draws his eyebrows together when he sees that Dream’s already looking at him, mouth half-open. </p><p>“Sorry, what?” Dream asks, shaking his head.</p><p>“I asked what a kicker is.” George says, giving him a look of amusement, and bringing another piece of popcorn to his mouth.</p><p>“Oh, uh, they kick the ball. Like for field goals and stuff.” Dream swallows, balling his hands into fists and running his thumbs along his fingers anxiously.</p><p>“Cool.” George turns back towards the game. “By the way, you were kind of right. This isn’t actually all that boring. Like, it’s not interesting, but I kind of get where you’re coming from with liking it.”</p><p>“Yes!” Dream pumps his fist, forcing himself to fully focus on reacting normally. “Finally! Welcome to the dark side.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah.” George says, yawning. He checks the time on his phone. “Man, I didn’t realize how late it was.”</p><p>Dream glances out a window across the room, only darkness and the lights of his neighbor’s house visible. “Only an hour and a bit left in the game. I’m sure we can make it.” Really, he just wants George to focus on something other than him. Him and his stupid staring and-</p><p>“Famous last words.” George teases. He notices the goosebumps slowly creeping their way down Dream’s arm, and his tense positioning, mistaking it for him being cold. “Want some blanket?”</p><p>“Sure,” Dream agrees, expecting George to toss him a corner or something. </p><p>Instead, George moves closer to him, unfolding the blanket and laying half over Dream. He kicks his legs up on the automan next to Dream’s, hooking it over their feet. George presses up against him, leaning his head on Dream’s shoulder and blinking up at him. “Man, you’re warm,” he says sleepily.</p><p>“Thanks?” Dream asks, feeling himself instinctively relax into the heat of George’s body. </p><p>“Mhm,” George responds, hair tickling Dream’s chin. </p><p>Dream watches the game, trying, with every atom in his body to ignore how badly he wants to press harder against George, meld against every curve and bone in his body. Trying to convince himself that this is a normal feeling, that it’s just a need, as a human, to be touched- and he hasn’t been touched in so long, so maybe his body is making up for that. Or maybe, it’s bros being bros; they’d always joked about cuddling when they finally met up. Breaking gender stereotypes, straight guys are allowed to cuddle without it being weird.</p><p>But is he a straight guy? He’d thought so. Thought so until he’d met George, at least. George and his sparkling eyes and affinity for oversized sweaters. George and his insults that he’d reuse over and over, George and his graceful clumsiness, George who still hadn’t quite grown into himself even at 24. George who couldn’t cook, but loved to watch as he stirred pasta or salted something. George who adored trivia, not because he’d ever get any of the questions right, but because he liked to give wildly incorrect answers to make people laugh. George, George, George.</p><p>Dream’d tried so hard to not let this happen. Not to let himself feel anything because he knew there’d be no way in hell it’d ever be reciprocated, and even if it was, that a relationship would risk everything they’d built up over the past however many years.</p><p>But then there were also those moments, like that day at the beach when he could feel George’s pulse speeding up alongside his. Like last week, when he’d tackled George and George’d challenged Dream to kiss him, as a joke, sure, but there was something more there too, something firm and real. </p><p>But he isn’t sure. And he isn’t going to rush it, isn’t going to do anything until he <em> is </em> sure. Because, although he might be impulsive most of the time, he doesn’t leap without looking when it matters. Leos are fiery, sure, but they’re also control freaks. And he’s more freak than flame, or maybe just more of both, enough that it balances. A modern-day firebender. </p><p>Usually.</p><p>With George, it’s different. When George is halfway across the world, it’s manageable. It’s easy to pinch out any stray flickers, categorize and rationalize anything stronger until it puffs away.</p><p>But when George is here? In the same house? When they’re shooting insults across the kitchen table, or streaming inches apart? When George is pressed up against him, every single one of Dream’s nerve endings alight? He’s a raging forest fire. Want and need engulfing him from head to toe. Sending his heart palpitating and body warming, his hands twitching and stomach twisting.</p><p>And now George is sunk into his shoulder, asleep, and he doesn’t know what to do, so he’s not doing anything, sitting and staring straight ahead at a football game that he hasn’t been watching single second of, pretending that he’s watched all of it instead of a boy who doesn’t even know-</p><p>George shifts, mumbles something incomprehensible, burrows deeper into Dream’s shoulder. He turns and kicks his leg up, resting it between Dream’s, and drapes an arm diagonally across his chest.</p><p>Dream tenses, almost moving away, then wonders if maybe, for one night, he can burn. Be impulsive without consequence. Be selfish and stay.</p><p>But he can’t.</p><p>That’s not who he wants to be. That’s not who he is.</p><p>He moves away slowly, gracefully. Barely breathing, he lowers George off his shoulder. He rocks to his feet, turns, and gently tugs George’s legs onto the couch so that he’s fully horizontal. Dream takes a second to smile at him before grabbing a few blankets and carefully draping them across him.</p><p>He looks down at George, passed out so soundly, and before he can stop himself, brushes a soft finger across the few strands of hair dashed across the brit’s forehead. He tilts his head at George’s now-exposed face, taking a mental picture of the darkness-dipped boy before yawning his way up the stairs.</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello!!! Thank you guys for all the support, so many more people are seeing this than I expected and I appreciate all the support so much!</p><p>Chapter 4 should hopefully be up around this time tomorrow :)</p><p>Edit: my wifi went out and likely won’t be back for a few days so the update will be slightly delayed :( I’ll hopefully have it up in the next day or two</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. One Mike's Hard makes things easier</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Good morning.” Dream says, seeing George sit up and stretch on the couch out of the corner of his eye.</p><p>“Hey,” George shoves the layer of blankets off himself and stands up.</p><p>“Sleep well?” Dream asks, sticking a bagel in the toaster.</p><p>“Yeah, really well actually.” George walks over to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it up with water.</p><p>“Do you remember anything from last night?” Dream asks, carefully. He dances around George, touching his hip to get the brit to move sideways, before pulling open the drawer that he was standing in front of.</p><p>“Football, and then nothing. I didn’t realize I was that tired.” George takes a sip of water. “Thanks for putting some blankets on me.”</p><p>“No problem,” Dream smiles. “Easier than lugging you up the stairs.” He looks down at his phone and makes a face.</p><p>“Everything ok?” George prys.</p><p>“Yeah, just more merch nonsense.” Dream says. He pulls the bagel out of the toaster and quickly slathers the two halves in peanut butter and jam. He hands one to George, holding it by the bottom to avoid getting either spread on his fingers. </p><p>George gratefully accepts it, taking a bite out of the side. “I thought that’d gotten sorted out, like, last week?”</p><p>Dream smiles ruefully, “I wish. But, sadly, the grind never ends.” He grabs his cup of coffee and starts plodding up the stairs to his room.</p><p>“See you later?” George calls after him.</p><p>“Yeah!” </p><p>He sighs into his chair, setting his half-bagel and mug on the desk before plunking his forehead down next to them. The wood’s cool on his forehead, and he relaxes into it, feeling his nose begin to ache after a few minutes.</p><p>He eventually brings his head up, boots up his laptop. Immerses himself in spreadsheets and emails, calls upon calls. Hours slip through his fingers: dancing across strings of spaces and letters.</p><p>When he finally leans back, it’s almost seven. He swears under his breath. A curse of both relief: for moving part of the mountain of problems that’d built up, and grief: for the day that he’s lost to menial tasks. He walks the foot to his bed and falls face down on top of it, taking a deep breath against the cold blanket.</p><p>He finally stands up when he hears a crash echo up the stairs, followed by a string of curses. “George!” He calls. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“Yeah,” George responds quickly, voice straining in a way that makes Dream think that he is not, in fact, okay.</p><p>He dashes down the stairs, almost tripping over his feet as he takes the steps two at a time instead of one. He spins on his heel at the bottom, taking in the scene in front of him. George is crouched on the floor, holding one hand close to his chest, and using the other to try and scoop a blackened, vaguely pizza-shaped pile of mush onto a tray that’s currently laying upside down on the floor next to him. “George?” He asks, not even sure where to begin.</p><p>“Uh, hey.” George squeaks out, jumping to his feet. </p><p>“Hi.” Dream raises his eyebrows in amusement, striding quickly over to the oven and turning it off. He carefully slides the maybe-pizza onto the tray and lifts it onto the counter, deciding to deal with it later, and turns back to George. </p><p>George jumps in before Dream can even ask what happened. “Sorry, I was just trying to make dinner tonight. You seemed so busy and I wanted to help, and there was pizza in the freezer, which looked easy but then I got distracted and then it was burning and so I tried to grab it, but I forgot to grab an oven mitt and the tray was hot so I dropped it and-”</p><p>“Hey- hey, slow down, it’s all good.” Dream comforts. He motions for George to extend the hand that’s been clasped against his chest. George holds it out, and Dream winces at the angry red marks scored across George’s fingers. “Here.” He directs, leading George over to the sink and sticking his hand under a stream of cold water.</p><p>“Fuck!” George hisses as the water hits his burn, immediately trying to pull his hand out. Dream grabs ahold of his wrist and shoves it back under the water.</p><p>“It’ll stop hurting, just give it a second.” Dream waits until he’s sure George won’t pull his hand out again, moving to grab paper towels and filling them with ice to form a makeshift ice pack. “You can take your hand out from under the water now, put this on it instead.” He holds out the ice pack, and George takes it, pressing it gingerly against his fingers.</p><p>Dream begins to laugh as he steps back, taking in the scene without worry focusing him on George. “What?” George snaps at him.</p><p>“Nothing, just.” Dream laughs harder, chuckles devolving into wheezes. “I can’t believe you messed up baking a frozen pizza. Like, I knew you were bad in the kitchen but I didn’t think you were<em> this </em>bad.”</p><p>“It was an accident, okay? I can cook pizzas. I’m not a complete nitwit.”</p><p>“Keep telling yourself that.” Dream’s getting maybe too much of a kick out of this. He notices the slightly hurt look on George’s face, and tries to shove down his laughter. “How about we order takeout for dinner instead.”</p><p>“Sure, just not pizza.” </p><p>“Obviously. Wouldn’t want to trigger your pizzatsd.” He pauses for effect, and George rolls his eyes at the stupid joke. “How’s Chinese sound?”</p><p>“Okay.” George agrees.  </p><p>The food gets there after a half hour, and George sets the couple of containers on the table. Dream snags two cans from the fridge, a Pepsi for himself and a Hard Mike's for George. They'd gotten a pack because George'd wanted to know what lemonade in the U.S was like compared the the clear, watery stuff that was common in the UK. Looking at the various options, George'd picked Mike's Hard because of the amount of shit everyone gave Bad for it being his drink of choice, steadfastly sticking to his decision even after Dream'd tried to convince him that alcoholic lemonade would taste different from its less fun counterpart.</p><p>They talk for a while, about nothing, really -George’s new video, Dream’s ongoing merch catastrophe- quickly finishing the food and moving to the couch. George is laying back with his feet on Dream’s lap, and as has become ritual, Dream’s pulled up a football game. </p><p>“What’s that guy do again?” George asks, turning towards Dream.</p><p>“You asked this yesterday. That’s the kicker.” Dream explains, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“Oh, cool... Wait what about him?” George points to a man ambling across the screen.</p><p>“That’s the kicker for the other team- Oh shit the colors are yellow and green.” Dream facepalms. “I hadn’t even thought about that.”</p><p>“Ah,” George draws his eyebrows together and nods once. He smiles slyly. “How about to make me feel better we watch something that’s not football.”</p><p>“Like what?” Dream exits out of the game.</p><p>“Literally anything else.”</p><p>“How about Treasure Planet?” Dream suggests, leaning back into the couch.</p><p>“Sure. As long as that’s not, like, secretly football and you’re screwing with me.”</p><p>“Have you never seen it before?”</p><p>“No, I have, just wouldn’t put saying we’ll watch something else and then leaving football on past you.” </p><p>“I would never,” Dream promises, immediately pulling the game back up.</p><p>“Screw you,” George laughs, throwing a pillow at Dream’s head. </p><p>Dream whacks it back at him. “Watch it.” He warns.</p><p>George flings the pillow again. Dream catches it and lightly tosses it to the floor, out of George’s reach. </p><p>“Whatever, not like you’ll actually do anything.” George challenges, sitting up a little straighter.</p><p>“Were you even there the last time we wrestled?”</p><p>“I mean, yeah, obviously.” </p><p>“Cause right now, either you weren’t, or you get way too confident when you’ve had literally one drink and are the lightest of lightweights.”</p><p>“Confidence is good.” George says, sitting up. “It helps you ask the hard questions and, like, go skydiving.”</p><p>“Skydiving?” Dream responds, turning the tv down. He can already tell that George is going to be the most entertaining thing in the room tonight.</p><p>“What, it’s cool. Have you ever been?” George asks, tilting his head at Dream.</p><p>“No, I haven’t. Want to someday though. You?”</p><p>“Nah.”</p><p>“I thought flying was your thing?”</p><p>“Skydiving’s falling, not flying.” George shifts a tiny bit closer, pinning his eyes on Dream’s. “Have you ever fallen?”</p><p>“I mean, probably. Recently? No.” Dream takes a second to think. “I fell down the stairs as a kid. Definitely fell out of some trees-”</p><p>George cuts him off. “I meant fallen for someone, Dream. A person.”</p><p>“Uh,” Dream clears this throat, “I mean, maybe.”</p><p>“Huh,” George says, an unidentifiable expression blinking across his face that Dream catches the tail end of. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, trying to recreate and memorize that look. He’ll go back over it with a fine-tipped sharpie and protractor later, discover its secrets.</p><p>“You?”</p><p>“Maybe. I’m not really sure though.” George says, leaning back. “Love’s kind of weird. Like, in theory, it’s supposed to be black and white, y’know?” He looks to Dream for confirmation. Dream nods, readjusting George’s white, sock-covered feet on his lap slightly. “But, like, I feel like sometimes it’s so hard to tell where one kind of love stops and the other begins. Like when is it friend love. If you want to fuck one of your friends but you’d never actually date them, is that friend love? Or love love? Or if you would date them and fuck them but also, being friends is good too? Or what’s the difference between friend versus family love? Like do you love them the same?”</p><p>“That’s a lot of questions, George.” Dream looks at George with a smile.</p><p>“Yeah, I know. Love’s just so… strange, huh?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Dream responds, rubbing at the bottom of his jacket. “You been thinking about love a lot lately?”</p><p>George sighs. “Yes? Kind of? I don’t know. I’m 24, Dream. So many of my friends back home are getting married and I’m still single. Sure I’ve dated people here and there but nothing really <em>serious</em> serious.”</p><p>“I mean, like, no way you don’t meet somebody soon.”</p><p>“You think?” George responds, hopefully.</p><p>“I mean yeah, you’re smart and cute and funny. You’ve got the shittiest fashion sense, but in the best way. You’re good at minecraft. You’re sweet.” </p><p>“Go on,” George says. He leans back and grins at the ceiling, enjoying the ego boost.</p><p>“You’re- uh, you’re warm, and genuine. Honest to a fault.”</p><p>George snorts. “I’m not always honest.”</p><p>“What’s the last thing you lied about then? Someone’s outfit looking nice when it didn’t cause you didn’t want to make them feel bad?”</p><p>“Not exactly.” George says. He shifts his eyes down to meet Dream’s, a question hovering in them that Dream can’t quite make out; buried in the damp-soil brown of his eyes.</p><p>“What was it then?” Dream presses.</p><p>“It’s not important.” George says, trying to brush the question off.</p><p>“Come on George,” Dream pushes again, spurred on by the dusting of red settling on George’s cheeks.</p><p>“I really don’t want to talk about it.” George counters, his voice taking on a note of seriousness. He tilts his head back and stares back at the ceiling. Dream stares at George until the brit brings his gaze back to Dream’s, silence itching in his throat. Dream narrows his eyes slightly, studying George’s face: front teeth ghosted over his bottom lip, eyelashes opening and closing slowly, eyes aching with--- with something he still can’t make out. </p><p>Realizing that archeology can only get him so far, Dream decides to chisel away at George another way. Dream moves his hand to George’s calf. “You know you can tell me anything right? Like no judgement, no questions.”</p><p>George nods, “I know.”</p><p>“Then why won’t you tell me?” Dream pressures, words coming out a little more harshly than he intended them.</p><p>“Dream…” George begins. Dream feels the muscles in George’s ankles tense slightly against his thighs. “I just… I dunno, sometimes things are hard to talk about.”</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>George pulls his legs off Dream, drawing them into a haphazard criss-cross. “Just things, okay? I don’t get why you’re so interested in me suddenly.”</p><p>“I’m always interested in you.” Dream teases.</p><p>“Fuck off.” George shoots back.</p><p>“No, I don’t think I will. I’m curious. You never keep secrets.”</p><p>“Yeah, I do.”</p><p>“No, you don’t.”</p><p>“Just shut it, Dream.” George cuts, a flash of guilt sparking his eyes at the anger in his voice. </p><p>Dream opens his mouth again, instincts telling him to shoot off an insult in response to George’s hostility. Maybe to diffuse the situation, maybe to change the subject, but he thinks better of it. He knows from experience that George is as, if not more, stubborn than him. </p><p>He knows he could just not respond, wait for the silence to drive George madder than his words ever could, but he’s not feeling extremely fond of leaving blank air between them, afraid of dropping the conversation into a stalemate that’ll leave their words tomorrow laced with lingering hints of awkwardness and resentment.</p><p>But, if he does answer, if he presses George further, he’s scared that it’ll have the same outcome, if not worse. That George’ll respond with an insult, and that he’ll cut back at George, the two of them dishing it out until they get bored, not getting anything productive done except ragging on one another, letting off some steam that might get personal, might drift into things that matter, fights that were put onto the back burner coming out, all at once instead of handled one at a time like they should be.</p><p>He finally settles on bridging the gap between his two options. Sending the ball into George’s court; casually tossed, not spiked. “Okay.”</p><p>“Okay?!” George responds, incredulously. His cheeks go darker, eyes wider. “After all that you’re just going to let it go?”</p><p>Dream feels a smirk dart across his face before he rearranges his features to look as innocent as possible. “You wanted me to drop it, so I did.”</p><p>George looks confused. “I just- usually you fight me harder.”</p><p>“Do you want me to keep fighting you?” </p><p>“I mean, no, but-”</p><p>“But?”</p><p>“Nothing.” George stares at Dream with a thoughtful look on his face. “You’re just always full of surprises.”</p><p>“Is that a good thing?” Dream responds, feeling himself relax as the tension that’d been clouding the room slowly starts to dissipate. He decides that he’ll leave George’s ‘secret’ alone for now, bring it up again in a few days.</p><p>“I think so.” George answers, uncertainly.</p><p>“Only think so?”</p><p>“I don’t know, it scares me sometimes.”</p><p>“I scare you?” </p><p>“I- I just always think I have you figured out and then you say something, or do something that makes me think I don’t know you at all. Especially now that we’re like, irl.” He raises his hands to put ‘irl’ in air quotations.</p><p>Dream lets his gaze drift up, studying the faint scratches in the ceiling paint from last year when he’d tried to drag in a Christmas tree that was a foot taller than would fit in the room. “I mean I think that’s kind of the cost of having a relationship with anyone. You have to know, going in, that you’ll never fully understand every aspect of who they are.” Dream takes a breath, flashing a smile at George. “You surprise me too, y’know.”</p><p>George snorts. “What about me could surprise you? I’m, like, the least interesting person you know by a long shot.”</p><p>“You surprised me today. Nobody’s ever tried to burn down my house before.”</p><p>“Hey!” George exclaims, more amused than actually hurt. </p><p>“Seriously though? Kind of the same way you feel about me, except I’m not scared. It’s my favorite part of people: the possibility in the not knowing.”</p><p>“Maybe that’s why we work so well together. Opposites are supposed to attract, right?” George half-smiles.</p><p>“Yeah.” Dream responds, kicking his feet up onto the automan. He lets silence sit between them on the couch for a minute, turning back to watch the neglected football game. “Hey, I know it’s kind of late, but would you still be down to watch Treasure Planet?” </p><p>“Sure.” George shrugs. “If I fall asleep though, shake me when the movie’s over. I don’t want to wake up with my face pressed into the couch cushions again.”</p><p>“No problem.” Dream grabs the remote and puts the movie on, sinking into the familiar opening scenes with ease.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh my gosh, you guys have been leaving so many lovely comments, and I appreciate all of you so much. They brighten up my day. </p><p>The next chapter will be up in the next few weeks, the next one's a big one, so it might take a little longer to get out.</p><p>Thank you guys again so much again for all of the support. I wasn't expecting anywhere near this many people to see this.</p><p>Edit (4/6/21): I am not abandoning this story, life's just been wildin. I am literally blown away by all the support y'all have been showing me, I was not expecting anywhere near this many people to see this. I'm working on the next chapter, and it'll hopefully be up within the next week or two :)</p>
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